Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise; all characters and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling, the richest woman on earth.


Pain hardens, and great pain hardens greatly, whatever the comforters say, and suffering does not ennoble, though it may occasionally lend a certain rigid dignity of manner to the suffering frame.

-Antonia S. Byatt


Hermione finally caught up to Draco as she crawled in the back seat of his Rolls, after demanding that Hooper scoot over. Smith was seated up front and Fred had appropriated the rear passenger side seat, which left someone squished in the middle. Hermione only had to glare at Hooper and he slid over to let her sit behind the driver.

After sweeping a glance about and buckling her safety belt, she squared Fred with a rather accusing stare. "Fred," she demanded, "what on earth are you doing here?" He smiled blandly and leaned forward to ruffle Smith's hair in response. Smith snarled and jerked his head forward. Fred looked to Hermione.

"Moral support," he replied with a grin.

She eyed him a moment and looked about the car again. "No, really, what is he doing here? And, by the way, why isn't anyone riding with George? Why are we all squashed in one vehicle?"

Draco snorted while the other three men glanced at each other, ashen faced. Finally, Fred turned back to her.

"Have you been in a car with my brother?"

A sudden squeal of rubber on pavement sounded just ahead of them and the ministry car George was driving pulled away from the curb in cloud of smoke, then was gone down the street. Hermione sat back in her seat, her mouth a small oh of surprise.

Draco watched her from the rearview mirror and allowed himself a smirk. Unfortunately, she caught his expression and returned it with a small glare. Leaning forward, she propped her chin over his shoulder. The smirk disappeared and he cast a wary glance at her as he pulled out into traffic.

"I know you were trying to leave me in the dust back there, Draco Malfoy," she hissed in his ear.

"I was doing no such thing," he frowned as he drove towards the ministry. What was wrong with this woman? He knew she was feeling strange, but honestly- was now anytime to start a fight? Still, he couldn't help his reaction. "Maybe you were just moving slower than everyone else!"

She scoffed and fell back into her seat once more. Draco will always be a Malfoy, no matter how nice he gets, she reminded herself. Besides, she'd only been joking about him leaving her behind, hadn't she? Were not, the voice spoke up. You meant to pick a fight. She sighed and crossed her arms. From beside her, Hooper shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should mention that she'd just put an elbow in his side. After a friendly glare from Fred, he decided not.

"I thought you liked speeding, Malfoy," Hermione grumbled from the back seat as she watched the scenery drag by the window.

Draco narrowed his eyes and was about to retaliate when Fred gave a small cough. "Er, perhaps she's right. It wouldn't hurt to drive like George this once, would it, Malfoy?"

"Not when one of my passengers is pregnant, it wouldn't!" Draco finally burst out. The cab went silent and Hermione turned her head from the window to stare at him in horror. Everyone but Hooper eyed the woman, shocked, as her face grew redder. The youngest member of their company was still looking about, confused.

"What?" he asked dumbly. Fred took the opportunity to distract him.

"Malfoy was referring to himself, Hooper."

Smith snorted into his hand and then began laughing aloud. "Did you just call Draco Malfoy a woman, Weasley?" he chortled.

Fred raised an eyebrow in their driver's direction and grinned. "I believe so. Is it entirely inappropriate in these circumstances though, honestly?"

Draco was pinching his lips together hard as his companions began laughing together. All except one: Hermione's face was still red and it look as though she was desperately close to tears. From anger or dismay? he wondered. He chanced a look back in the rearview mirror and she cast a glare at his reflection. Er! He turned his eyes back to the road ahead. Anger. That was definitely anger.

A moment later, the other three still distracted, Hermione leaned forward and placed one hand on his shoulder, gripping it very tightly. "You'll drive a little faster, if you know what's good for you, Draco Malfoy," she hissed, keeping a rein on her tightly wound emotions.

His foot hit the gas without hesitating this time and they sped off, intent to get there and away from one another as quickly as possible.


They reached the ministry only a few minutes after George and tumbled from the vehicle in a slight disarray. Hermione immediately stalked away from Draco to join Hooper while Smith walked around the vehicle to stand with Draco. Fred stared from one set to the other and shook his head. So the team was back to being split right down the middle- and after George had worked so hard to try and bring the two departments together. Ah, well. His twin could handle the earth falling to pieces around his ears; he could certainly handle some interdepartmental squabbles. Relationship squabbles, at that.

"So," he finally announced, "I'll wait here with the getaway vehicle while you storm the bank."

Draco and Hermione shot him withering looks at the same time. He would have laughed if it hadn't been so creepy. Do they even realize how alike they are?

"Fred," Hermione started, "this is hardly the set of Bonnie and Clyde."

Draco stared from one to the other and frowned, as if they were sharing an inside joke. Fred only shrugged. He had about as much of an idea as to what she was talking about as Draco did.

"Right," Smith finally muttered. "I'm going in. Coming?" He turned and cast one glance over his shoulder before starting for the stairs. Draco watched his assistant walk away and chanced one more look at Hermione before following him.

"Couldn't we have taken the back entrance again?" Hooper asked as he watched the other two men heading for the loo. "I hate flushing myself."

Hermione snorted and wiped her eyes. "Shut it, Hooper. Everyone hates it. That's the point of the blasted things. Why work in a happy environment when you can torture yourself daily?" she continued to grouse as she headed for the ladies' side. He watched her go and turned to Fred.

"What'd I say?"

"Nothing, mate," the older wizard calmed him. "She's just easily perturbed right now. Good luck, then. Better get going," he remarked cheerfully and swatted Hooper on the head, sending him scuttling off.

Then he settled in against the Rolls and got to the business of waiting. That is, until he realized he was leaning against a Rolls and Draco had left him the key.

A minute later, Fred decided waiting could just as easily be done by burning petrol down the highway. To any passerby it would have been obvious that he was George's twin; the vehicle disappeared from the lot with a completely unnecessary squealing of tires.

Hermione exited the fireplace and spotted Draco and Smith not too far ahead, striding towards the stairs. She narrowed her eyes and quickly overtook them. She'd be damned if she let them think that just because she was pregnant she was weak and incapable of doing her job. She'd be damned if Draco and the others felt like just because they'd managed to guess at her condition it gave them the right to go spreading it about, like she- her condition, her child- was gossip. Or even suitable conversation material, or appropriate grounds for excluding her from the investigation.

She wasn't a porcelain doll, damn it! She was a woman with thoughts and feelings and a life. A life outside her children, her husband. She would survive Harry's death, whether she liked it or not- whether it felt like it or not. She would have this child whether it seemed practical or not- whether she could stomach the thought of it growing up not knowing its father or not- she would bear it. She would bear it all.

That kind of courage- that resignation- did not warrant Draco bloody Malfoy blabbing whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted. He was not her protector, self styled or not! She was her own protector and she didn't need him! She didn't want him! The thought of his friendship just hours earlier had brought her such pleasure- she admitted it freely. The thought that she might someday have room in her heart for another man, even him, was comforting. But now all his presence, all his protection did was to remind her that she had no one left except her children…and she had to protect them. They could not do that for her. No matter how much her friends and family and even Draco, that bastard, thought they loved and cared for her, they could not protect her from the years of healing that must come after this injustice.

No one could help her heal except herself. If she relied on anyone else it would only be hiding from the truth. Oh, she would let them cook her meals; and invite her for dinner and parties and vacations; and help her clean house and watch the kids; and there would be laughter and hugs and tears…but she had to choose for herself to live. She had to be the one who said, I can get through this. I can survive this. I will laugh and love again and mean it, someday. I can do this.

Men never understood that. They never understood that they could not just hug a woman or dispense advice and fix things. Things sometimes could not be fixed. And if they could, it was her who had to do it.

She brushed past Draco angrily, not caring that her eyes were still suspiciously wet. So she'd been crying, who cared? Everyone had, recently. She had every right to. He let her rush ahead of him and didn't say anything. She was glad of it- desperately glad. Don't say anything to me again, you- but she couldn't even finish the thought.

Draco watched her long, powerful strides and kicked himself mentally. He shouldn't have said anything; he wasn't even certain about it to begin with. He knew he shouldn't have, but he was angry too- angry that she'd picked a fight and angry that Potter would have everything he wanted even in death. He was mostly angry at himself, however. Those other things were no more than excuses. Just excuses.

It was too late for him to say anything to make up for the slip, though. Word would spread now- fast. The Weasley clan would know, Smith would tell…whoever he told that sort of thing to. It was inevitable. And whatever friendship he'd been forging with her would lose its tenuous grasp in the ensuing weeks of angry silence from her. He knew her well enough to expect that, at least.

What were you thinking, you dolt? He asked over and over, barely listening to Smith. The man at his side talked, distracting him from his chastisement and the determined clicking of Hermione's heels until they reached the door to Mysteries.


George was already waiting for them outside, the minister at his side. Melusine Dearborn looked tired and careworn, but she stood straight and tall. She gestured to another small witch at her side.

"This is an unspeakable from the department, gentleman- and lady," she added with a nod at Hermione's stony face. "She'll be your guide into the department. Do what you need to. There's already been a memo to the department that if anyone interferes, I'll have his or her head- literally. Have at it." She clasped George's hand firmly and then swept away, presumably back to her offices.

George nodded after her. "She's got as much on her plate as we do- so let's get to work; don't want to disappoint the minister…or half of London, at that."

He didn't say a word to Hermione about the state of her face- splotchy and stern- for which she was grateful. She could always count on George to treat her like the same old Hermione. Ready to do your job, eh? She stuck out her tongue at the voice and it waltzed away, smirking. Give me some time, she told it, and you can lambast me all you like. The voice complied and she allowed herself a small breath of relief before the unspeakable opened the door and they followed her inside, one after another.

Draco ended up behind Hermione and he resisted the urge to reach out and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Knowing her, she'd bite it off. He was spared a chuckle at the image when Smith was called forward.

"Tell her what you know about the fellow, Smith," George was saying.

The blonde wizard stared at the short witch doubtfully for a moment before a sturdy prod from George's wand startled him.

"Er, well…my great uncle Hezekiah Smith worked here starting in 1896. He was listed in the employee records of 1947. We know he worked especially with the group of spatiotemporal theorists clear up until the disaster in the early seventies. Sound familiar?"

The witch bristled and cast a stern glance at Smith as if to say, "How old do you think I am?" He took a moment to look somewhat abashed before she replied.

"Not personally, although there's more than one wizard who survived the disaster- I've heard stories about your great uncle, my boy, believe me." The witch, with this newfound information, went over to another door and opened it, ushering them into a new room. "This is the Time Chamber. Some of you," she paused and glanced at Hermione especially, "may recall it."

Hermione felt her cheeks turn red and stared up at the ceiling. Draco decided it best to avoid any further smirking on his part and turned his attention squarely on the unspeakable.

"Yes, we're all familiar with the place. Get on with it."

The squat witch turned a light shade of purple and glared at him before continuing. "There used to be ten offices off of this hall. After the disaster, they only ever recovered six of them. It's very likely that what remains of Hezekiah Smith and other vanished employees lies somewhere within these walls."

"Or on another plane entirely," Hooper pointed out. "In fact, it's highly probable that the disaster back then caused a split in the department. Such tampering with spatiotemporal experiments could have created several alternative dimensions. Smith's great uncle could, in reality, be anywhere in any time, alive or dead, and we'd never be able to locate him."

The little witch harrumphed, visibly bristling like a bird fluffing its feathers. "Young man," she demanded, "where did you get such highly classified information?"

"From me," George murmured, stepping in before Hooper inadvertently caused another disaster for the Department of Mysteries. "Now, what we really want to know is, have you made any progress with locating these lost offices?"

"Well," the witch began, relaxing, "two years ago our head unspeakable wanted to remodel, which would have involved taking out a wall or two. We had the old blueprints as to where those offices were located, but never found a trace of the doorways."

"So did you take the walls out or not?"

"We couldn't," she explained. "Since we couldn't find the doors, but did find an anomaly of some sort in the spaces where the offices used to be, we decided it was too unsafe to try and remove any walls without first figuring out the nature of the anomalies."

"So you haven't really done anything, then?" George asked, puzzled.

"Not quite. We've been testing and trying to discover the nature of the anomalies before deciding what to do with them."

"Did you try putting in a door where there used to be one? Transfiguration? Spells to reveal the wall's original nature?"

The witch shifted uncomfortably and crossed her arms. "Er," she said. "I don't think I should reveal that information to you at this time."

Smith rolled his eyes and turned to Hooper. "You're our resident surprise genius with this stuff," he offered, "Fix their problem so we can save London and get the hell home."

George smacked Smith. "Bossing people around is my job, but thanks for the effort," he commended the other fellow. "Now, what should we do? Who wants to wield the sledgehammer first?"

The unspeakable stared at them in horror. "This is a very delicate chamber! You can't just burst in here and tear down walls- there's no telling what might happen!"

"Madam," Draco soothed, placing an arm about her shoulders and leading her away as Hooper, Smith and George rallied to discuss their efforts, "don't worry about any of this. They're just anxious to save seven million people, you see? Nothing to fret over."


Hermione snorted and walked over to inspect the wall in question. "You know," she muttered, "we could use the transfiguration spell I used yesterday. That would maintain the structural integrity, at least. I mean, we still don't know what's behind it, but…"

"The disaster could have transported parts of another universe or locale into the space where the office used to be- that's the worst case scenario, as far as I'm concerned," Hooper added, stepping up next to her.

"Right, so…dinosaurs? Let's say that the worst case is there could be part of a Jurassic era rainforest, complete with carnivorous reptiles, behind this wall. It would only be a small piece, right?"

"Or it could effectively be a doorway into that jungle- and if we open this wall then hundreds of dinosaurs may pour out."

"Sounds good. Let's take it down. What's this spell you were talking about, Hermione?" George responded, putting an arm about both of them. Smith stood off to one side, uncertain.

"Dinosaurs? Are you serious?"

Hermione looked back at him and smiled. "Or it could just be your uncle's office, complete with his mummified body. We really can't say for sure."

"Is this even his original office? There were four lost ones, right?" Hooper consulted the blueprint again and George asked Hermione to begin the spell. Smith walked closer and watched as she began to work.

"That's a brilliant spell, Potter," he remarked, watching as the wall slowly curled over on itself, remolding and smoothing around a small arched doorway.

She grinned. "I really am the only one here who paid attention in Charms second year, aren't I?"

"You were the only one not worried about being devoured by a giant snake, yeah," George reassured her.

"That must've been amazing," Hooper spouted. "You know, we all heard the stories, but it just wasn't the same as being there, I imagine. It's just not fair! You all got to experience everything as it happened, but all we got was a couple of lousy battles. No great discoveries or anything. Yeah, the Carrows blew, but really, Hogwarts was ridiculously safe after all that basilisk business was out of the way-."

"Hooper," Smith interrupted.

"Yeah?" The younger wizard looked up from his blueprints.

"Shut it."

"George," Hermione muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "where was this one living the whole time he was at school? Under a rock?"

George avoided laughing aloud by biting his lip. He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Draco and the unspeakable. Still keeping her busy and quiet. Good. All the other members of Mysteries seemed to be keeping out of their way, which he appreciated. At least some wizards and witches seemed to obey the minister's authority. Draco suddenly shot him a pained look and he realized their time of peace was nearing an end. They'd have to stupefy an unspeakable soon, if they didn't hurry up.

"Er. Hermione, love?" he asked. The witch looked up and sighed, her doorway almost finished. "Think you could hurry it a little? And teach that spell to me?"

She nodded in understanding and gave him the name, then explained it while finishing up the arch she was working on. He nodded and motioned to Smith and Hooper, passing the information along, then turned to the completed and darkened door in front of them.

"No dinosaurs," he smiled, nudging her. She glared at him and put a hand at the small of her back.

"Not the ribs, please," she replied stiffly, but agreed. "No dinosaurs."

"Is that disappointment I detect?" George laughed. "Come on, let's see what's in here. Lumos."

He held the wand high and poked his head in the door. His eyes took in a dimly lit office space, dusty, but wizard free. Disappointed, he stepped back.

"Nothing here, but it is one of the long missing offices," he reported. "Which means the rest of them probably will be in tact as well."

"So why couldn't an entire team of unspeakable figure out that the anomaly they were detecting was just an office space?"

"They're mental, all of them," George replied before turning to the final wall. Hermione watched as he worked the spell and then cast a glance at Smith and Hooper, were also casting it without any problems. She looked back in Draco's direction and gave a start as she saw the unspeakable turning around.

"George-," she began, "we need to hurry up."

"I know that-!" he responded shortly just as Hooper gave a small cry. They turned from their own jobs and left the other doors half finished, heedless of the danger they might pose.

George and Smith stopped just behind Hooper and former put a hand out to keep Hermione back. Until she growled at him, that is.

"Sorry," he mumbled and made space for her to see.

"Does everyone know?" she hissed in return.

The redhead cringed and shook his head. "I think Hooper's not clear on it- but it's not my fault! Draco let slip."

Hermione scowled and peered over Hooper's shoulder, ending the conversation. She would definitely have to have a word with Draco later, but that could wait. For now, they needed to find out what Hooper had exclaimed over.

"What is it?" Smith asked, squinting into the darkness.

"Lumos." The younger wizard held his wand up and stepped into the archway. All anyone could see at first was cobwebs and dust, but forms eventually took shape and it was clear they were looking into another office. Hooper spoke over his shoulder to them.

"I know I heard something coming from in here- I thought it might be…"

There was a wheezing noise from a corner and the others jumped. "Ah-ha!" Hooper exclaimed happily, stepping further into the space. "I knew it!"

Smith walked around him, his own wand held high. "Knew what? What have you found? It looks like just another empty, dusty office to me."

Just then they all heard it- a raspy noise, as if someone- or something- was attempting to speak.

"Whaaaa-?" came the sound again. Smith paled to a shade which rivaled Draco's natural coloring. "Whaaa-?"

Finally, George found an old lamp in a corner and flicked it on. Surprisingly, it buzzed and flickered its way to life. Unsurprisingly, it shorted out five minutes later, taking the rest of the department with it. The team looked at one another guiltily in the dim wand light and listened with some trepidation to the frightened shrieks of the unspeakable they'd left with Draco.

"Whaaat…" the disembodied voice spoke up again, only to fall into a coughing fit.

"What is it?" Smith asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Courage had never been one of his strengths.

George shrugged. "A ghost? A relative of Myrtle, perhaps."

"Oh, stop being so ridiculous!" Hermione snorted. She swept past the others in order to inspect the corners of the office. "It's obviously an old man who hasn't spoken to anyone in decades. Now get out of my way. Ghosts, indeed. Outside of Hogwarts I highly doubt their existence."

"Whaaat…i- i- iiiissss…" the voice fell to more coughing, which led Hermione straight to the culprit. She stood staring down at him a moment, somewhat horrified both by his condition and the knowledge that he had sat here, like this, for decades and not one wizard from the ministry had realized it. "Hezekiah Smith?" she asked, looking for other signs of life from him. He only raised a few fingers as if in greeting and then coughed some more.

"Whaaat…is…thaaat…" he mumbled again, responding to the foolish yells of the unspeakables outside.

"What's that racket?" she asked the disturbingly mummified fellow crouched over by the radiator. He managed to raise his head and cocked one overgrown, bushy eyebrow at her. "Is that what you meant? It's just some stupid witch. Never mind her. We'll have you out of here so you can destroy her personally in a jiff."

"Ha- has the min-is-try finally re- re- reeeemodled?" he asked in return. He tried desperately to cling to the arm she was offering, but his hands kept slipping away.

Hermione turned and glared at George and the others, sending them into action. Smith ran forward and knelt beside the man, putting both arms about him and helping him up. George took his other side and together, the two men managed to haul the extremely old and extremely starved wizard out of the office.


Draco met them in the hall, strong-arming their guide. "Oh! Fantastic!" he exclaimed, all the while managing the struggling and unhappy witch in his custody. "So you found him, then?"

George grinned and nodded. "He's not in very good shape, but Smith here will take care of him for us, eh?"

"Wonderful," the other wizard replied, promptly foisting the unspeakable off on Hooper. "Now we can get the hell out of here, hand our information over to the warders along with this fellow, and be done with the whole damned business, right?" When George didn't reply immediately, Draco's face fell. "Don't tell me you need us for something else? What more can we do?"

Hermione watched the conversation with growing anxiety and looked at Smith and his uncle. Sure, the old man would probably need someone some looking after and a speedy recovery before he could truly help them, but any decent healer would be able to do that for them. Why should they have to stay any longer? They'd spent days awake, risked life and limb, and even solved a decades old mystery for the department named after them, for Merlin's sake! What more could George ask of them? She felt her frustration with the situation and a sharp pang passed through her chest. Hermione gave a strangled cry and caught her hands to her abdomen.

The stress wasn't doing her any favors…she needed to go home and be with her daughter. She hadn't realized until then how much she missed Viola, how much she had wanted all this to be over. How much she needed to go home and hold Vi and cry about the things she could never have again. She needed to sit down and talk things out with Ginny and Neville, to be close to Viola, to explain to her little girl that her father had left them both with something wonderful…no matter how much it would hurt to bring this new one into the world alone, without Harry. She looked up and saw Smith staring at her strangely and felt at her cheeks.

They were damp, and she was crying. Damn it! Not now! Not already! She had to get home immediately- she turned away from the group and held her arms close to her body, as if that would steady her. Then she began walking- away, towards the door, into the outer chamber, across the marble floor to the exit.

She vaguely registered some questions and calls- from George? But it didn't matter, suddenly. She had to leave. Nothing could keep her from Viola now. They were as good as finished with the case; she wasn't a necessary component any longer. What was there left to do? The man was Smith's relative, after all. Let him deal with the elderly wizard. She could leave. She was free from this nightmare- free to step into a brand new one and she was eager for it to start.

Eager because it meant she would finally be able to begin the healing process, truly. No more planning, no more thinking ahead. Now she could just be for a while, with her daughter and her unborn child and her thoughts. She was looking forward to it: to being a mother for a while, a widow. Harry…we'll grieve for you. There's time for it now and I'm sorry I let them stop me from doing it before, but you have my time and my heart now- just as you always did.

She was roused from her thoughts by a hand upon her arm and it caught her up short, forced her to turn and face someone. Hermione passed a hand over her eyes, wiping briefly at the tears which didn't seem to want to stop, and looked up.

"What is it," she murmured, not caring about the answer. Not caring…

The man before her paused, puzzled. Of course they all wanted to go home. Of course he wanted to be with his son and bury his wife and curl up and die, himself, but they still had work to do. Couldn't she hold up just a little longer? What was he supposed to tell George when it was obvious Hermione couldn't do this anymore? What was George supposed to do when none of them could do it anymore? The woman before him made a pathetic snuffling sound and attempted to wipe her eyes again.

Draco frowned and resisted the urge to take her in his arms. If ever a person needed to be held then, it was her- but he restrained himself. She didn't want to be held by him. Never mind the unseemliness of it all; she was still mad at him about earlier, no doubt. He never should have crossed the line that way- he never should have pushed their relationship. It was only in the midst of this tragedy that he'd finally found the courage to show his feelings to her once more…and it had been entirely the wrong time. His own heart was broken for the second time, by a wife he hadn't loved until recently, and he had no business pretending that he could mend it so soon afterwards. He had no business asking Hermione to do that for him when he'd broken hers just as badly so many years ago.

Her grief was overwhelming to him and he grimaced, then released her arm. "I'm sorry," he gasped out, holding back his own tears. "I'm sorry."

She only nodded, turned, and continued to walk away.

"Where are you going?" he called after her. They couldn't be of comfort to one another, but he could at least make sure she got home safely. "Let me drive you."

She kept walking and he caught up to her. "Let me at least call you a taxi. I'll make sure Ginny knows you're coming over."

Five minutes later, Draco put a silent Hermione into a cab on the avenue above the ministry. He gave the driver the address and then leaned in the back window to speak to the bereaved witch.

"Say hello to Viola for me. And…when you're ready, give me a call. We can talk."

At that, Hermione looked up and some of that familiar spark returned to the dull brown eyes. She gave him a very, very small smile and placed one of her hands in his, giving it the briefest of squeezes.

"I'm sorry too, Draco." He smiled tentatively at her and began to reach a hand towards her face, but she pulled away. Their smiles disappeared and she closed her eyes before speaking again. "But there's nothing to talk about. Not for a long time, I'm afraid. Good bye. Tell George I'm sorry, but he knows where to find me."

With that, she rolled up the window and motioned to the driver. Draco stood back, trying to keep the shock from taking over his body. What was there to be shocked about, after all? She was right. There was nothing to talk about and they each had lives to get on with.

Steeling himself, he watched the taxi drive away and then turned to reenter the ministry. He needed to get back to work. They were a man short, now.


Author's Note: I wasn't able to meet my goal of finishing before I leave, I'm afraid. I fly out tomorrow afternoon for Germany and will be gone until mid July. That's when you can expect me to continue. (Because I will continue, I promise. This thing is nowhere near over, blast it all.) Thanks for your understanding! And don't worry, Draco and Hermione will totally get it on before this thing is over.